The Best Job
by clair beaubien
Summary: Tag to Head of a Pin. Dean's not feeling much like a big brother - until something unexpected happens. Ch. 2 is now up.
1. Chapter 1

Dean was out of the hospital, three days now. That's all he cared about. He didn't care where they were going or when they would get there. Sam was driving, Dean was leaning against the passenger door, trying to rest. He was out of the hospital, that's all he cared about.

He hadn't gotten much rest in the hospital. For all the sleeping and unconsciousness he'd done, he hadn't gotten much rest. So he was resting now. Sam was driving, Sam was in charge, Sam could do whatever he wanted, as long as Dean could just rest and not have to think about saving the world.

Life had certainly taken a turn for the sucky recently. The first seal broke open when a righteous man shed blood in hell and Dean couldn't believe he was that man. Oh, he could believe he'd have the kind of luck that would cause the first drop in the apocalyptic dominoes. He just never - ever - saw himself as a _righteous_ man.

"Dean - you want to stop for lunch somewhere?"

"I don't care. Whatever. You decide."

There, that was easy. Easier than it maybe should've been. Sam could be Mr. Big, Mr. Strong, Mr. In Charge. Let him find out it wasn't as easy as Dean ever made it seem. Sam didn't want to be the little brother anymore? Fine, Dean didn't need him to _be_ the little brother anymore. Being the big brother was overrated. Let Sam find out what a boring, thankless job it was.

"We're kind of on a backwater road. We should probably stop at the next likely place." Sam said after awhile. "I don't know that we might hit another one anytime soon."

"Okay. Whatever."

Another few miles down the road, a little diner appeared in a bend in the road. Sam pulled into the parking lot and parked near the back of the squat building.

"Place is pretty busy." He said, indicating the nearly full parking lot. "Hope that means the food is good."

"Hope they got pie." Dean said. He got out of the car and thought about asking for the keys to get into the trunk. His wallet was in his jacket and his jacket was in the trunk. Or maybe he'd just let Sam pick up the tab. Rank has its responsibilities after all.

But - just in case _rank_ didn't have any money on him, Dean decided to get his wallet before they went in. He walked toward the back of the car.

"Sam - toss me the keys will you? Sam?"

Dean looked over when Sam didn't answer. He was plastered back against the driver's side door, staring past the diner like the apocalypse had finally come.

"Dean?"

"What? What's going on?"

"_Dean?_"

Okay, that was Sam's '_I'm about to be eaten alive and not in a good way'_ voice. Dean hurried to him.

"_What?_"

When Sam still didn't answer, Dean followed where he was looking. It had to be Sam's spidey sense tingling because Dean didn't see anything but - what was that? Balloons? Yeah, those were balloons, appearing over a rise in the road around the far side of the diner.

"What the - ?"

"_Dean?_" Sam's extra three inches must be giving him a better look at what else was coming. And apparently it wasn't good. He was breathing hard, almost hyperventilating.

Finally, Dean saw why. As the balloons came closer, it became gradually apparent that they were attached to a very tiny, very colorful, very creepy - clown. And that clown was heading right for them.

Dean would've laughed if the look on Sam's face wasn't pure terror.

"_Dean?"_

Sam looked at him like he could make the clown go away. What was he supposed to do - shoot it? What in the world was a clown doing _here_?

"All right Sam, it's all right. Just get in the car."

"What?"

"Get in the car, roll up the windows. It'll be okay."

"Okay. Okay." Sam nodded like it was the best idea he ever heard and hurried to get in. Dean leaned back against the door, crossing his arms like he didn't have a care in the world, but blocking the broad view into the car and Sam. He kept an eye on the clown and shook his head - Sam was scared. After everything they'd been through, everything that Sam _alone_ had been through, he was still scared of clowns. And a tiny clown who couldn't be even half as tall as Sam at that.

Dean took a quick look back at Sam. He'd pulled out a map of an entirely different state and had it pulled open in front of and practically around himself. Dean thought he noticed a slight tremor in his hands.

_Sam was scared_.

Okay, so seeing a clown out in the middle of nowhere, where no clown had any business being, even creeped out Dean a little. But Mr. 'Bigger, Better, Stronger'? How could the strength that took on Samhain and Alistair, that was spoiling for a showdown with Lilith, be afraid of a clown? A teeny, tiny clown?

The fearsome spectre in question smiled at Dean as she gained the diner and went inside. Dean saw through the open door a sea of pointy-hatted kids' heads, dozens of balloons and some harried looking adults. Must be some kid's birthday party. That explained the clown.

It didn't explain where he and Sam were going to eat lunch, because for sure it wasn't going to be here.

"We're okay." Dean said. He knocked on the window which made Sam jump. "We're okay." He repeated when Sam rolled the window down a crack. "Kid's party. Must be why the parking lot is full. C'mon, open up."

"We're not gonna - we're not gonna - eat here. Are we?" Sam asked after he unlocked the door and pushed it open for Dean. He sounded like he was trying to sound casual. It wasn't working.

"No, I think we can find somewhere else. Slide over."

Sam slid over. He folded up the map and put it in the glove compartment and handed the keys to Dean.

"Um - thanks." He gestured to the window where Dean had been his human shield. His expression was a mix of embarrassment, guilt, and relief.

Dean smiled. What saphead ever said being a big brother was a thankless job? It was the best job in the whole world.

The End.


	2. What If?

Author's Note: The Van Horn Mansion is a known haunted house in Newfane, NY. And if you're ever in the area, the diner referenced in the story is at the corner of Rts. 425 and 104 in Cambria, NY.

***************************************************************

"You okay?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." Sam didn't look from the folder he was studying with newspaper clippings and pages printed from blogs about some suspicious goings on at an old house up near Lake Ontario.

"You sure?" Dean wasn't feeling 100% - or anything close to it - himself. But being behind the wheel again since before - well, just since _before - _he was starting to feel a little bit more like his old self.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

Being able to run interference between Sammy and a big scary clown was kind of a nice feeling too. Even if she wasn't _that_ big.

"It's just - I know you don't like clowns but I've never seen you so -" _don't use the word freak -_ "so _spooked_ before."

"Well I haven't had my Wheaties yet today." Sam said. He smiled but it faded. "I'm kinda tired too. It's just not what I was expecting to see when I got out of the car."

Dean knew - Sam was tired because for the past two weeks straight, he'd been single-handedly running the family. Since Dean got out of the hospital - no, since Pam's death - Sam had been driving the car, picking the motels and the restaurants, doing the laundry, replenishing their supplies. After - _after _- Sam had gotten Dean to the hospital, stayed with him 24/7, or more like 22/5 since Dean was there five days and Sam did on occasion take a bathroom or food break. The rest of the time, he handled insurance, ran interference with nurses and therapists, appeased the police officers investigating Dean's 'attack', encouraged Dean when he had to, comforted him when he could, signed every paper, and memorized every particular of discharge. Now for the past three days, he'd been overseeing every single minute of Dean's life, eating, sleeping, painkillers and antibiotics. Up close when he could. From a distance when he had to.

No wonder Sam was tired, Dean was tired just thinking about it.

And Sam hadn't had his Wheaties yet because they were twenty-seven minutes past "Clown Zero" and no other restaurant, diner, or fast food joint had appeared. All along this road was nothing but acres and acres of corn fields, apple trees, dairy farms and goats.

"I don't think I've ever been so far out the backside of nowhere before." Dean said,

"Now _that's_ a visual."

Dean gave him a '_ha ha'_ look.

"You know Sam -."

"_Dean_ - it's just a - a - _phobia_. All right? It's nothing. Lots of people don't like clowns. I don't care what Dr. Phil or whoever says about positive thinking or positive visualization or whatever it is, I'm _not_ wearing that t-shirt you got me after the raksasha."

"You still _have _that t-shirt?"

"Dean -."

"I'm just saying, if you still have it -."

"_Dean._"

"_All right._ That's not what I was going to say anyway."

"What then?" Sam finally pulled his attention away from the file to look at Dean.

"Just want t'be sure you're all right."

"It was just a clown."

"A clown you were terrified of, Sammy."

"What's your point? What're you getting at?"

And here came the most ridiculous thing Dean had ever said, and that was saying a lot.

"_What if Lilith came dressed as a clown?"_

Sam stared at him so long and so hard, Dean was surprised he didn't go up in flames.

"_Seriously?_"

"You know what Bobby says, evil is stupid but it's clever. I'm just saying..."

"Lilith, number one demon in hell, biggest threat to mankind, self-appointed bringer of the Apocalypse, _dressed as a clown?"_

"_I'm just saying."_

"I think lack of oxygen gave you brain damage." Sam went back to the folder on his knee. "So - Van Horn Mansion. Newfane, NY. Built in 1824, known stop on the Underground Railroad. Open for tours every Sunday until four pm..."

But Dean wasn't done.

"Really Sam, what would you do if she came to you as a clown?"

And Sam stared at him again.

"I'd take her out, all right? What'd you think?"

Dean almost believed him, he said it so earnestly, so seriously. But he'd also seen Sam's face back at the diner when his pint-sized nightmare was still a hundred feet away from him.

"_Crap_." Sam said. He was looking at the map.

"What?"

"We missed Rte 104. We missed the turn for Newfane."

"How far back?"

"Fifteen miles." He looked and sounded a little more disturbed than the situation called for, Dean thought.

"That's not so bad, fifteen miles - that's..." He calculated and realized why Sammy was so bent out of shape. "..._at the diner."_

Suddenly, Mr. 'Big & Tough' didn't look so big and tough anymore. He practically buried himself in the map.

"I'll find another way. There's got to be another road that'll take us there. We've passed a lot of roads, at least one has got to take us there."

"Isn't 104 the most direct route?" Dean asked.

"So we come up around the back, what's the big deal?"

Seemed like a pretty _big_ deal the way Sammy was sweating over it.

"All right. Just gimme a road and we'll turn. We're practically to the lake, we'll have to turn soon anyway or start swimming."

"Okay. Um - the lake. Turn right. Rt. 18 will take us to 78. That'll take us to the mansion. And there's some restaurants not far from there too, according to the article from this touristy magazine."

"Good."

They drove on for awhile, past orchards and old houses, lake shore and fishing boats. Sam packed up the file folder and pushed it on the seat between them.

"You think she would?" He asked, finally. "Come dressed as a clown?"

He wanted to know, he _really_ wanted to know if it could happen, and he asked it like he absolultely believed Dean knew the answer. Dean thought they needed to look at it as a possibility.

"The question is, what would you do if she did? What if that clown back at the diner had been Lilith?"

"But - you were there." Sam said it like it was the only answer to the question.

"What if I'm not there?"

"Where're you gonna be?"

"I don't know - what if we get separated?"

"Wha - but - separated how?"

Honestly, Dean couldn't believe Sam was really this scared of the prospect. He'd only meant to address a possible complication in their whole 'save the world' scheme, not terrify his brother.

"It happens Sammy. We get separated. What happens if - what if Lilith takes me out?"

The change happened so fast Dean wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it. The fear on Sam's face evaporated in an instant, replaced with iron determination.

"She goes down, that's what happens. She so much as looks at you funny and I don't care if she's a clown or a freaking T-Rex, I'll rip her lungs out."

"Okay. Well, I guess that answers _that_ question." Dean said, trying not to smile. _Check 'fear of clowns' off the list._

SPN SPN SPN

Later that night, in a quiet motel, close enough to the lake to hear the waves breaking on the beach, Dean felt his way across the darkened room, headed for the bathroom. He flicked the light on, and looked back to make sure he hadn't disturbed Sam.

What he saw made him smile.

There on his bed, with his blankets kicked out of the way, Sam slept soundly. The bathroom light cut across his chest and the t-shirt he was wearing as pajamas.

'_I love clowns....I had three for breakfast'_

The End


End file.
